Off We Go A Hybrid-Killing
by ceredonia
Summary: Damon and Alaric hunt down a hybrid hiding in the woods; banter ensues.


"Aren't the stars so _romantic_? It's almost as if we're alone out here. In the universe, that is. Just us, no one else around."

"Shut up."

"Don't you ever wonder fate has put us together out here, to choose whatever path we want?"

"Branch."

"Exactly! Branching out into the world, endless possibilities—"

"No,_ branch_!"

Damon ducked his head as he took a swig from the vodka bottle he had in his hand, his fingers wrapped around the slender neck of the bottle. He hadn't bothered with the stereotypical paper bag, as he hadn't had one around the house. He stumbled forward a little; to the unknowing eye, he would probably look like he was drunk, when in fact he was in full control. He never got _drunk_. Not on alcohol, anyway. Now _blood_ drunk, _that_ was something totally different. He enjoyed _that_.

"Are you even paying attention?" Alaric stopped walking, turning to glare back at him from a few paces ahead. He was always a few paces ahead. Damon hated leading the way, even when it was his idea.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved his free hand in the air absentmindedly, a smirk stretching the corners of his mouth. "Find the cabin, kill the hybrid, go home and celebrate. Did I miss anything?"

"Yeah, you missed _not getting killed yourself_, you idiot." Alaric started walking again, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. Damon had volunteered to carry the weapons bag at first, but then dropped it a mile into the woods, claiming he was tired. Alaric had just wanted to avoid getting bitten or having his neck snapped out of frustration, and hadn't bothered to argue otherwise, taking up the slack.

"Like a _tree_ is going to do anything to me."

"A trap might. We don't know much about this hybrid; he could be much smarter than we anticipate."

"_Right_, because Klaus is known to make smart hybrids. Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"_You're_ an oxymoron."

"Wow, _real_ mature, Ric."

"You're rubbing off on me. Sorry."

"Ooh, save the dirty talk for the others."

"Shut _up_ and keep _walking_. We should be there soon. "

Damon let out a long, drawn-out sigh and skipped forward a couple steps, coming to match stride with Alaric. "Why can't you ever let loose and just have some fun on a kill?"

"Because unlike you, I don't have super strength to get me through everything."

"But you have your magic ring!" He reached out and grabbed Alaric's hand, expertly slipping the ring off his finger. Alaric let out a protesting yell and reached for it, but Damon sped off, suddenly fifty feet ahead of him. He set the bottle of vodka down on the ground next to him, carefully nestling it against some leaves and rocks so it wouldn't fall over and spill.

"Give that back!" he shouted as loudly as he dared.

"Make me!"

Alaric started running towards him, the full bag of weapons smacking painfully against his back, knowing that he wouldn't get very close before Damon disappeared. Sure enough, he had barely moved ten feet when he blinked and Damon was gone, his laughter echoing through the trees around him.

"This isn't _funny_, Damon."

"Actually, it's _quite_ hilarious." His voice was so close; Alaric turned and looked to his left, seeing Damon standing a mere foot away.

"You know I hate when you act like this." He stuck his hand out, narrowing his eyes. "Give it back."

"Aw, ask more nicely."

"Give it back, you _asshole_," Alaric replied through gritted teeth.

"Thanks! You're an asshole too, sweets." Damon grinned and held out his left arm, his fingers curled in against his palm. Alaric let out a breath and waited patiently. "What are you waiting for?"

"To hold out your other hand."

"You know me too well." Damon brought up his right hand out of his pocket, uncurling his fingers of his left hand to reveal an empty palm.

"_Damon_."

"You're hanging around Elena too much," he complained, tossing the ring from his right hand towards him. Alaric caught it swiftly and shoved it back onto his hand, still glaring at Damon.

"So are you."

"Oh, are we going down _that_ road now? Interesting. I didn't think we'd ever get to chat about girls, considering our…history."

"Yeah, we're not. I just wanted to point out that you should leave her alone. She's with Stefan. You remember him, right? Your _brother_?"

"Eh." Damon shrugged and sped away, reappearing a few seconds later with the vodka bottle back in hand. "Shall we get going?" He raised it and took a long swig, making a satisfied noise as he moved it from away from his lips.

"You really have no morals, do you? I guess those get lost over time."

"I think I lost most of those when I died."

"Fair enough." Alaric started walking, adjusting the bag once again. One of the stakes was digging into his lower back, but he refused to stop to fix it, knowing Damon would just tease him. He may look older than Damon, but still felt like a kid around him sometimes.

Stupid vampires. Contradictory on all fronts.

"Cheer up, Ric. We're almost there."

"Are you sure?"

"Please." Damon looked over at him as they walked, that damned smirk stretching across his face. "I can _smell_ that hybrid a mile away. I just wanted to wait until we were closer, so as not to alarm you."

"Gee, thanks. I could have used some more warning, you know."

"Even if it kills you, you'll live! Who cares?"

"_I care_!"

"Pfft. Then you better get ready, because the cabin's about a hundred feet that way." Damon stopped and brought the bottle to his lips a final time, chugging the last ounce in a few gulps. He licked his lips and threw the bottle into the trees, listening to it smash against something far away. "Ready?"

Alaric, who had been preparing his crossbow, nodded over at him. "Yeah. You lead."

"Thanks, princess."

"Just _go_."

Damon rolled his eyes and started walking towards the direction he had gestured, shaking his head. A moment later he began to sprint ahead, leaving Alaric to jog behind him, resisting the urge to shout after him.

A small cabin suddenly came into view past the tree line as Alaric approached, readying his crossbow by leveling it with his chest. Damon was obviously already inside, able to move much faster than he could ever hope to match. He slowed his pace and began to walk towards the front door, which was hanging open in pieces from the hinges. He frowned and slowed to a creeping walk, looking carefully around him as he stepped across the threshold, whipping his head around to inspect his surroundings.

"No one's here," Damon announced, standing next to Alaric without warning. "I bet Klaus summoned him back home or something."

"That's odd, it isn't like Bonnie to mess up a tracking spell," Alaric said, lowering the crossbow as he walked over to the kitchen entrance, looking inside.

"Witches be crazy," Damon replied, shrugging as he inspected his fingernails on his right hand. "Let's get going home."

"Wait a second." Alaric looked back at him, frowning. "Let me see your hand."

He raised an eyebrow and held out his right hand. "Ric, sweetie. Are you about to…" He let out a comical gasp. "Yes, yes! A million times, _yes_!"

Alaric swatted his hand away, scowling. "Your _other_ hand, jackass."

Damon's grin faded away as he held up his right hand. A few drops of blood dripped towards the ground, splashing onto the wood flooring beneath their feet.

"What the hell—"

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Bedroom, first door on the left. Dude was sleeping. I took care of it. Heart's in the garden out back. I bet some pretty flowers will grow in the spring."

Alaric shook his head. "Seriously? You couldn't have waited for me?"

"I just wanted to protect your pretty little head, darling." Damon reached up and lightly touched the back of his bloody hand to Alaric's face, pressing it against his warm cheek. "I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

"Stop it."

"You are just _no fun_ today."

"I don't want to know what _you_ consider to be _fun_. Let's go home."

"If you say so!" Damon took off skipping out the front door, leaving Alaric standing in the foyer of the cabin, crossbow in hand, bag weighing heavily on his back as he sighed deeply, preparing himself for the increasingly darkening night walk.

_What the hell does Elena see in that asshole, anyway_? he thought to himself, shaking his head.


End file.
